


Elias Gets Cucked

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking to Cope, Intoxication, M/M, Marijuana, but dont worry they have sex sober, martin fucks peter to piss off elias, sex as a means to an end, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24218539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Martin's gotten a bit of a taste for pissing off Elias. He figures he may as well fuck his husband.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas
Comments: 12
Kudos: 93
Collections: Anonymous





	Elias Gets Cucked

**Author's Note:**

> this idea just WOULDNT leave me alone

Peter is wearing a wedding ring.

Martin has no idea how he didn’t notice before. It’s definitely a wedding ring, solid gold and engraved with some text too small to read, shiny and pristine against the man’s callous fingers. Those callous fingers are currently rolling a joint, which is a bit more remarkable than the wedding ring. 

“Peter,” Martin says cautiously, two questions warring for dominance on his tongue.

“Hm?” Peter starts flicking his lighter.

“Where did you get that weed?”

Peter lights the joint and puts it to his lips. “It’s Elias’s,” he says on the exhale. “I knew it would piss him off. Would you like some?” 

“How is Elias giving you weed from prison?” Martin asks, reaching out to take a pass from the joint.

“I stole it!” Peter says cheerily. “He’s going to be so mad.”

Martin chokes on the smoke as he laughs. “So, what, you make a hobby out of pissing off Elias? Why did he give you the Institute, then?”

“Why, because I’m his husband, of course,” Peter says casually, and Martin chokes on the smoke a second time. “And, well, there are other reasons. Now that I’ve got the Institute, I’ll see if I can anger him enough that he’ll divorce me!”

Martin takes another drag from the joint, feeling pleasantly hazy as he ignores Peter’s gesture to take it back. “Is he watching us now?” he asks.

Peter nods with a hum as he idly tabs through the books in his office bookcase. They’re all pristine and unread—Peter uses them as decoration, and Martin doesn’t have the time or emotional effort to do more than read the titles. 

“I was actually hoping to ask you for advice on that front,” Peter says. “You’re the only person I’ve known to really make Elias annoyed. Well, besides me. How do I get him to divorce me?”

Martin leans back in his chair and puts his feet up on Peter’s desk. ”Without vandalizing his Institute?”

“Well, the Institute is mine. Technically, I mean. Which is the only reason I haven’t tried it—Elias is extremely possessive.” Peter chuckles in a way that is not at all fond, at least not that Martin can tell. 

Martin taps the arm of the chair thoughtfully and smokes a bit more. After dealing with Peter for this long, he’s glad at the opportunity to get properly high.

“Cheat on him,” he suggests. “If he’s possessive of you, maybe that’ll work.”

Normally, he’s not so eager to be helpful to Peter, but what can he say? Ever since he got a taste for annoying Elias, the craving hasn’t yet left Martin’s tongue. And, well. He has to take small victories and enjoy this arrangement where he can, or he’s going to go insane.

Martin hums and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes. He’s starting to practically melt into it. Since joining the Institute, weed has barely served to dull his mind, but it does loosen his muscles and send his myriad stresses skittering into the corners of his mind. Peter takes the joint from his hands quickly, like Martin’s fingers would burn him. 

Usually, when he’s high, Martin longs for touch. He’d spent hours curled up in Tim’s lap, slowly tracing the delicate lines of Tim’s knuckles. That longing is numbed now, but he still has to resist the urge to follow Peter’s hands with his own. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“For what?” Peter says blithely. Martin just responds with a vague motion of his hand.

“Cheating on him might work,” Peter muses.

An idea occurs to Martin, and he raises his hand like he’s back in school. It takes him a few moments to collect his thoughts.

“Elias,” he says, “is possessive of you.”

“Yes, I suppose he is, and I don’t like it. I don’t like people caring about me like that. I don’t need anyone, and I especially don’t need him owning me.”

“Elias,” Martin bulldozes on, “is possessive of….the Institute? And the people in.”

“In the Institute?”

“Yes, in the Institute.”

“So.” Martin has made an excellent point, and he’s about to drive it home. “Sleep with an Institute employee.”

Peter sits down on the floor with a melancholy sigh. “That would be a wonderful idea,” he says mournfully. “You have the best ideas, Martin. Really good ideas. You’re a great assistant. Jon really didn’t appreciate you.”

“But what?”

“What?”

“You make it sound like you won’t do it.”

“You know I can’t stand anyone.”

“You let Elias sleep with you,” Martin points out. “And you work with me.”

“It’s so vulnerable,” Peter complains. “It’s better with Elias. He just comes and leaves.”

Martin bursts into incredulous giggles that continue so long he nearly falls off his chair. 

“Of course,” he gasps out. “Of course he does.”

Peter crawls around the desk without standing up to fish out the bottle of rum he keeps in one of the bottom drawers.

“Is that how you like it, Peter?” Martin laughs. “Are you a…” He snaps his fingers, trying to recall the term, but even Beholding can’t fully counteract the influence of the marijuana. “A…”

“Cumdump? That’s what Elias calls me.”

This time, Martin’s giggles really do carry him off his chair. He collapses on the floor, holding his stomach and wheezing. 

“I was gonna say…” he degenerates into further peals of bubbly, hysterical laughter. 

Peter passes him the bottle, and Martin just holds it as he collects himself.

“I was gonna say pillow princess,” he finally chokes out, and then degenerates into laughter again. It’s been years since he’s laughed like this, even while high. 

He composes himself with a swig of burning alcohol. 

“So,” he says, “does Elias ever make you…you know. Finish?”

Peter shakes his head mournfully. “He says the Beholding won’t show him where the clit is.”

Martin shakes his head mournfully, imitating Peter. “Jonah Magnus was trans, you know. What’s this Institute come to?”

“He was what?” Peter snatches the bottle and takes a long, long drink. “Son of a bitch.”

Martin decides to stop drinking and not tell Peter about the dangers of drinking while high. If he dies, he dies. He watches Peter with some amusement, the way his mouth turns down in an almost adorable pout.

“So you just put up with that. With not finishing.”

“Oh, I do come. I tell him I have a kink for masturbating after sex.”

Martin is overcome with a distasteful wave of pity.

“If you slept with an Institute employee, they’d probably…satisfy you,” he offers.

“But you’re the only motherfucker in this city who can handle me,” Peter says plaintively.

And that’s when Martin gets an idea of how his skillset could be utilized. It should have occurred to him earlier, really, but in his defense he’s been rather very high. 

“I bet I could handle you,” he says.

“That’s what I just said.” Peter takes another swig. He looks well on his way to being fully miserably drunk.

“No, I mean,” Martin says, “if you need an Institute employee to fuck you, and I’m the only Institute employee you can handle…”

“…then you should be the one to arrange a prostitute for me? I guess I trust you to provide one that’s not too annoying.”

“No, no. I mean. You’re like, you know.” Martin gestures at Peter, at his sailor’s arms and long salt-and-pepper hair. “Bear.”

“No, you’re the bear.”

“Okay, okay, we’re both bears. Can we move on?”

Peter nods, leaning towards Martin with rapt attention, but he overshoots the lean and ends up fully falling into Martin’s lap. Martin lets him just lie there, and strokes a hand through his hair, which is a tad too greasy. 

“I’m saying,” Martin says patiently, both for Peter’s benefit and because his tongue isn’t quite cooperating, “that I’d have sex with you to make Elias mad.”

Peter clumsily pats Martin’s thigh. “You’d really do that?”

“I’d do a lot to piss off Elias. Including you.” He shrugs. “And you won’t Airdrop trauma into my head, so. An improvement.”

Peter nuzzles his face into Martin’s leg. 

“Not now, though,” Martin continues. 

Peter hums in agreement and promptly falls asleep.


End file.
